If Tomorrow Never Comes
by emmalec
Summary: So this is just a super short, super angsty lil chap that I'm gonna post for y'all because I feel bad about not posting as much on this account. But the reason why is that I kindaaaa use archiveofourown now...and this full story is on there too! (With more chaps!) So go check it out-my usernames Divenlyunispiredtoahellishextent and the story name is the same...enjoy lol.


_ 2:00 AM._

He peels the covers over his body, slowly, carefully. He's in no rush.

The house is silent and so is he as he steps out of bed. His feet feel like cinder blocks on the wood floor, weighing him down and forcing him forward.

Darkness.

It's dark everywhere he goes, everywhere he looks. His childhood room. The smiling pictures looking back at him atop grey furniture, and he reaches out and turns them away with a lump in his throat. He stares at the boy in those photos, the fake grins. All of those faded memories feels like lifetimes away from what he had become. He's sure the people in the pictures next to him had no idea that that little boy would do what he was about to do next, feel the way he feels now.

Numbness.

He tries, for a short moment, to close his eyes for a second and think about what _they _would think about this, and it makes the lump in his throat grow larger. Sorrow. It's the only thing he knows how to feel now, and he's become so accustomed to it that the tears feel familiar, almost welcoming. He wipes one off his face. He's not fazed by them anymore.

He moves away from the photographs.

_ 2:04 AM._

His red, dull, Toyota Camry is sitting out on the front lawn, waiting for him from where he left it last night, knowing that he would back later. And now here he is. Maybe if someone was awake, they could've stopped him, he thinks. Maybe, in another universe, if his sister had gone down for a glass of water at the time he was leaving, she could've seen him and stopped him. She's the only person in the world who somewhat recognizes the way he's feeling because she can read him like an open book. She's the only person that he knows doesn't deserve to experience the loss from what he's about to do. But this is _his _choice. He'd left her a note. He knows that nothing will make up for what he's going to do, but that's the best he can do.

_2:06 AM._

Around the world, at this exact moment, hundreds of other people from their own lives are dying. There's war, famine, disease, murders, suicides. So, _so _many horrible things, _so_ _many _horrible people, people that don't deserve any of the great things they're getting.

And on top of that, so many amazing people that deserve so much more then _they're_ getting.

But why is Alec Lightwood different than any of these dying people? In the big picture, he's smaller than an _atom _to all the other people, and he isn't important to anyone. In fact, he's a lot less than important to _lots _of people.

He wonders if that's a reason why he's doing this, like maybe all those people are added reasons to it. Maybe all those people who he thought were his friends, who he loved and had feelings for ended up being the reason he's lost the ability to feel like that now.

Because, no matter what he does or how hard he tries, it's getting to the point where he doesn't really feel things anymore.

He used to be all those things. He remembers a time when he was actually happy with who he was, happy with the people in his life and the life he was living.

He clutches the steering wheel tighter as his mind brings him back. He remembers trying to fix everything again, doing everything he could to try and bring back that joy he once had in his life. Now the only happiness he got was from small pieces of beautiful literature or a song.

It isn't enough. He's still alone.

And Alec Lightwood is _tired _of it.

The roads are empty and foggy, the moon covered from clouds, leaving only the light of his headlights leading the way. It feels suffocating, the dark clouds pressing in as if to crush him. He focuses on his headlights instead. They shine on the black streets like two, low battery flashlights in a graveyard. Trees curve over the car like long hands with spidery fingers, threatening to grab him with their dancing branches from the strong, evening wind. It's cold, but he doesn't bother putting on the heat. He even leaves the windows open, letting the cold slash at his skin. He likes the feeling of it—still not emotions, but something different.

Nothing.

In another time, Alec would've liked the look of his town dark and abandoned like a blown out candle in a pitch black room. All the shops were closed, locked, and dim. The street lights lining the road looks like sprinkles of bright color in the dead of night, like a ray of hope.

But not in the current time. Alec barely even notices a squirrel crossing the road.

_2:15 AM._

He drives straight through red lights; there's no one on the road with him, there's no point in waiting. It doesn't even matter if someone sees him and reports him—he'll be gone soon anyway.

He doesn't need to think anything through anymore; he already did that a while ago. The planning, decisions. Now is the time for action. It's sort of nice—his racing mind can take a break, he can take a moment of peace. His last moment being one of peace, that's what's nice.

It's about a half an hour drive. His mind is mostly empty for all of it.

He stops the car right in the middle of the road. Right in front of the bridge. He steps out of it with a heavy heart, feels like he's watching himself from a distance. He rarely feels this way, and when he does, he comes close to doing things like this. It's no wonder he feels like this again.

He steps up onto the edge of it, without thinking, or needing to. Once he's standing right up on the stoney part of it, the part separating the rest of the world from the ocean, he looks down at himself. He sees what he's always seen, his same worn out Adidas shoes, and decrepit clothing. He never thinks about what he puts on. Today hadn't been any different, since he in fact didn't even put anything new on. He's wearing the same black t-shirt with the two holes at the hem with his saggy jeans that he's had since the 8th grade.

His lip trembles and another tear comes down his face, tickling his cheek. The wind shakes him gently, wavers his loose shirt and makes him shiver. He balls his hands up into fists as more tears fall. He's suddenly shockingly aware of everything around him; the deafening sound of the ocean right below him, splashing violently in tune with the wind, the scrap of his feet against the rocky ledge as he shifts from side to side, the lifeless world all around him. It's the exact epitome of how he feels, and everything goes quiet again in his head.

_2:50 AM._

He stays there for a little while, longer than he thought he would. Just staring at the long expanse of water in front of him, taking in deep breaths, and letting them out slowly. Inhaling, exhaling, inhaling…inhaling—

He chokes on a sob, lifting an arm and biting his sleeve to stop the noise immediately. It's not like anyone's going to hear him, he just knows he wouldn't be able to stand hearing himself.

_Pathetic._

Alright.

He inches closer, his tattered, ugly shoes now hanging almost halfway off the edge. The water below is completely black and lifeless, just how he feels, just how he's about to be as well. It looks threatening yet welcoming, and Alec feels his heart shatter as he starts to let himself fall, let the wind take over and pull him down, his already blurry eyes closing just as the last piece of his mind breaks away, just as his entire body finally goes on auto-lock and it feels like he's turned to stone, a heartless, mindless, completely unimportant statue.

Maybe if he'd been paying more attention to his surroundings, he would've seen the one, the _only _other car in the night drive up next to his. Maybe if he'd been paying more attention, he would've heard the slam of a car door ten feet away, feet slamming into the ground and a man yelling out.

_3:00 AM._

The blow doesn't hit like he expected it to. He thought it would be maybe more like a sharp slap to his entire body, and then everything would finally go black. But instead, he feels the wind knocked out of him, his body still there and leaning against something _hard_, not water…

Alec Lightwood opens his eyes.

He's staring into a stranger's eyes, golden-green and startlingly close to his own.

His first instinct is confusion. Then realization. Then anger, he's pushing the man away, shoving him in horror, kicking and screaming.

All his senses come back to him in a loud rush. He hears the man saying things, yelling is a more accurate word, right at his face as he holds him down. His hands are pinned above his head, scraping against rocks painfully. The man is taller than him, so it's easier to hold down his whole body.

Alec starts to sob, loud and wretched as he begs the man to let him go.

It isn't until the man _actually _lets him go, that he stops.

Tears are still running down his face, and Alec's staring up at him in disbelief. The man had stood and outstretches a hand to him. He swallows heavily, panting, looking around desperately for a plan B. This really wasn't how he saw this night going.

So, miserably, he awkwardly shimmies away from the stranger, in the opposite direction. The man just steps forward, follows.

"What do you want?" Alec finally spat after he'd had enough of their staring contest.

The man cocked his head, pretending to consider. Alec scowled. Why couldn't this dude just mind his own business?  
"Well, I suppose I'm here to stop you from taking your life," his accented voice becomes soft at the end, and Alec wants to recoil into a ball in humiliation. This is actually happening to him.

"How about you mind your own business?" Alec sniffs, looking away as he stands. He moves back towards the bridge. A hand clasps around his arm, stopping him.

"And what? Just watch you jump off?"

"You could drive away," Alec growls, ripping his arm from the grip. He still refuses to look back at him.

"No one's that heartless."

Alec wants to say, _you don't know that_, or _well why don't you become the first_, but he knows that would be pointless. Because the man's right.

Another tear tracks slowly down his face, and he stands there silently. Neither of them speak again for maybe another five minutes. Maybe the man suspects that Alec's changing his mind, but he's really just waiting for the right moment to throw himself off again.

And when he finds it, he does. He runs as fast as he can, further down the bridge so the man can't reach him again, and then jumps on the ledge. He hears the guy yelling and chasing after him, but without looking back, he leaps.

Everything goes black. Alec Lightwood assumes he's succeeded.

The next words he hears are from that same voice. "You should never feel doomed. Live. Live to see your future self. He has so much potential."

Alec gasps awake.

_4 AM._


End file.
